That slash on your throat, my love,
was a vicious cut to my stony heart.
When I saw you I knew you'd been hurt,
though you'd survived my hand's gloved
grasp. I was your enemy, and you loved
me more than breath or life or truth.
I knew you had kept a lover's dark faith,
and would spurn love's shade for love.
But now I know you better. Now I know
that I was the romantic one, not you,
that you were the hard-hearted lover
who could wear the doubled red choker
like a necklace of rubies brokered
in love's true market, under cover.